


Homecoming

by stravaganza



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Battle Scars, Blowjobs, Bottom James Sholto, Dirty Talk, Fingerfucking, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Gay Sex, Happy Ending, Injury Recovery, It was supposed to be Porn Without Plot but I suck so you get Porn With Plot AND Feelings, James doesn't mind, John is unprofessional, Jolto, M/M, Massage, Masseur John, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of War, Oral Sex, POV James Sholto, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Rutting, Sex, Sexy Times, Slow Burn, Smut, Top John Watson, War Injuries, lots of lube, massage oil as lube, massage therapy, slowish actually, there may be follow ups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 09:30:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5285570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stravaganza/pseuds/stravaganza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"<i>Relax</i>.<br/>James scoffed as the thought made him frown again.<br/>He didn’t need to relax, he needed to work. He didn’t need to be on leave, there was nothing for him outside his job.<br/>And, most importantly, he had <i>no need whatsoever</i> to visit a massage parlour."</p><p> </p><p>  <strike>it was supposed to be a short PWP one shot named "Slick" I don't know what happened</strike></p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vanetti (lereya)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lereya/gifts).



> This is what happens when I ramble with kettlepillow (theanisplanet on tumblr) about Jolto masseur!AUs...
> 
> A gift for the amazing vanetti, because she's:
> 
> a) a cinnamon roll who deserves all the good, happy things;  
> b) an angel who always helps others;  
> c) the person who made me realize I wasn't alone in Jolto hell (and dragged me deeper in it).
> 
> Disclaimer: I haven't written anything in a long time. I'm rusty, bear with me.
> 
> That said, enjoy the porn! :D

_Relax_.

James scoffed as the thought made him frown again.

He didn’t need to  _relax_ , he needed to work.

He didn’t need to be on leave, there was nothing for him outside his job.

And, most importantly, he had  _no need whatsoever_  to visit a massage parlour.

But his superiors had insisted he went anyway. There was a massage parlour that gave discounts to soldiers, both serving and retired, discharged or injured. It was well known that people in the military, both due to stress and physical exertion, were often in need of some sort of therapy to avoid chronic pains or injuries, and in the past years a lot of places begun practicing massage therapy for soldiers. All in all, it was a flourishing business.

Still. Scientifical evidence or not, James simply didn’t think that a massage would be enough to make all his stress and fatigue and small aches disappear. It would do nothing. James already knew he’d just spend two hours or however long it took lying uncomfortably on a hard table, with his neck bent at awkward angles, rigid as a board while waiting for the waste of time to be over with.

Then he’d return to his duties, even if he was stuck in London for another week. He could still think of ways to improve his platoon’s performances. To make his men more efficient without exhausting them.

For now, he was sitting in a white waiting room, nervously bouncing his leg. There was a reception counter, with a secretary taking notes and making appointments for other people, the ring of the phone set on a soft chime of wind bells.

James supposed it was to keep it in line with the rest of the atmosphere. There was an round aquarium in the middle of the room, the first thing that could be seen once entering from the door, with chairs lined up against the walls to its left and right. The counter was behind it, across from the door, and besides it there were two corridours, with several closed doors.

James had taken in the surroundings out of military habit: assert the exits, check for blind spots to hide behind if needed, see if there are any windows. There were some, just small, rectangular picture windows high on the walls, and a skylight over the aquarium, filtering golden light in the room. There were some pictures on the walls, both photos and watercoloured paintings of mountains, calm forests, sandy beaches and the foggy street of late night London. There wasn’t a clock anywhere, but on the high part of the reception desk sat a dippy bird carved out of some fancy looking wood, and James used that to try and understand how much time was passing. When he couldn’t really get a time unit that way, he let his gaze wander, over the small tabletop zen garden at the other side of the desk, complete with a little bonsai.

James was getting restless. He closed his eyes and rolled his head on his shoulders, feeling his neck pop. There was no one else in the waiting room, and the calm environment seemed too forced for James to feel whatever positive vibes it was supposed to give him. He kept waiting for something to happen. The battlefield was never quiet. If it was, you either were in danger, or you were the last man standing.

Finally glancing at his watch, James scowled. He had supposed arriving earlier might have been a good thing, but now he was regretting it. He was craving a coffee, and he was starting to feel restless.

Just as he was about to give in and leave to return (maybe) after getting something to drink, one of the doors opened. He saw a petite woman walk out with a blissed out expression and a flush on her dark skin. He followed her with his eyes while she paid at the desk, and heard the door close again.

When she left, the receptionist gave him a warm smile and said he’d be called in in just a few moments.

 _Great_. _More waiting_. James looked at his watch again, and, to be fair, it was still a few minutes earlier than the time his appointment had been scheduled.

As promised, it was less than three minutes when the door opened again. James, unsure whether it was his cue or not, waited for the receptionist to call his name before getting in.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Maybe nothing different from the waiting room. Maybe he was expecting another white room, with more posters about health or relaxing pictures, or maybe just white walls so the mind would be free to wander.

He certainly wasn’t expecting to find himself in a tent in the desert. He wasn’t expecting to see what looked, by all means, like a medical bay back on the field. He hadn’t expected the floor to be covered by big, soft but worn rugs to conceal the linoleum; the walls to be covered with drapings that were meant to recall the material of army tents; the ceiling to be curving fabrics, gathering around the simple hanging ceiling light, wrapped around its stem in an imitation of a tent’s pointed ceiling.

James hadn’t expected to feel so at home, and it felt natural to just get out of his parade rest, as if he actually was about to say his unit’s doctor.

When the door closed behind him, he turned to see a man in fatigues. He was shorter than him, with sandy blonde hair fashioned in military style and deep blue eyes. His expression was serene and respectful, and when he saluted James, he knew the man wasn’t faking.

“Major Sholto, sir. I’m Captain John Watson, and I’ll be in charge of your care. Please, leave your clothes on the chair so we can proceed with our therapy.” The man’s tone was business like and formal, but James wouldn’t have it any other way. He would have hated a too friendly person. Those always made him uncomfortable.

Instead, he returned the salute and begun taking his shirt off. When his clothes were all neatly folded on the chair, James was given a pair of uncomfortable looking paper pants. When he gave them a frown, the masseur smirked a bit.

“I will go and get the supplies I need. Lie on the table, on your stomach, find a comfortable position. I will be right back.”

John disappeared in a small attached room James hadn’t even noticed, but which appeared to be a small restroom with a cabinet in it. When the door closed, James took his pants off and quickly slipped in the paper ones, before going to lie down like he had been instructed.

It took Captain Watson a while to return, but James wasn’t feeling restless anymore. He was safe. Back in the base, where it was unlikely to be attacked - at least, not without the sentries noticing and giving the alarm in time. If needed, he could get dressed again in less than two minutes. His men were resting after a successful mission, and he’d see them again soon.

Actually, James was so relaxed that he nearly fell asleep. Only the gentle touch of a hand on his bare skin made him open his eyes, and he glanced up at the doctor.

“Sorry, sir. Didn’t mean to startle you.” Captain Watson smirked down at him, and looked at his displayed body. James thought he’d seen a spark of something mischievous in his eyes, but it might have been his imagination.

Instead, he closed his eyes again and sighed through his nose. “It’s alright, Watson. I had no intention of dozing off, but…”

“Hard day on the field?” the man asked, and James frowned a bit.

“You know how it is.”

His only reply was a chuckle, and the flutter of a towel as it was laid over his hips, to cover his rear.

“I do, Sir. It’s the heat, really. That’s why people around here are always so cranky. Too many layers and weights, in this heat. Almost unbearable.”

James let out a noncommittal noise, and then heard the sound of a bottle cap being opened. His mind immediately brought him the image of lube, and he felt his cheeks flush a bit. This was a medical environment. It wasn’t  _that_  kind of lube.

“Might be a bit cold,” Watson warned him, and James took a sharp breath through his nose.

Yes. Definitely not the right thing to be thinking about.

When he felt Watson’s hand on him again, it was slippery with massage oil. He traced the tip of his fingers along his shoulder blades, then down the dip of his spine, following every vertebrae. He ran his fingers in the dip and valleys defined by James’s muscles, the pressure just on the right side of tickling, down to the dimples in his lower back. He stopped at the border drawn by the towel, and then moved his hands again to his sides.

Watson squeezed the flesh there, and James let out a small gasp through his nose. Then the fingers moved up, and along his arms, which he was keeping bent besides his head on the table.

Feather-like, Watson’s fingers drew patterns along his biceps and forearms, moving back down and lingering on the back of his neck. That’s where he started his massage in earnest.

Expertly, Watson started applying pressure to all the right spots, pulling out small grunts from James’s lips.

“You’re very tense, sir. Should come and see me more often,” the doctor said, and James thought he heard a small smile in his voice, but his only reply was a groan as those hands moved again to the small of his back, rubbing warm circles in his spine and making his skin break into goosebumps.

“Yeah,” is all James could drawl out after a small pause, and if his voice was deeper than before, no one mentioned.

He thought to himself that it had been too long since he’d had this. Physical contact that went beyond the usual medical check-ups. But he wasn’t allowed, not with people beneath or over him in rank, and he was aspiring for the role of Major-General. It wouldn’t do to start a relationship, even with someone on his same level, because then they’d have to cut it short.

That was kind of the same reason he didn’t allow himself to have relationships even while he was on leave. It never lasted long enough, and what good would it make to be with someone two weeks in as many years?

But this… He told himself that he could do this. Actually come and see Watson more often. To… relax. Suddenly, relaxing was now a good idea. His mind was drifting away, but he could feel his body in the way he loved, the way that usually only physical exercise, training or field work allowed him to feel.

Except it wasn’t the same. It was better, somehow. To lose himself in the feeling of Watson’s fingers, to allow himself to melt beneath his knowing touches, to just enjoy the moment… that was more than he had had in a long time.

Then, the smooth glide of Watson’s hands on him stopped. James opened his eyes and blinked stupidly at the tent wall in front of him, a frown on his face. Was he getting more oil?

The sound of the spurting tube told him so. Watson’s hands moved to his legs, from his shins and up, his fingers kneading his thighs and arriving, once more, to the limit imposed by the towel. James actually moaned at that, and felt his face burn with shame. That was very unprofessional on his part. He should keep such things to himself. But Watson didn’t seem to mind, keeping to work on him, and if his thumbs seemed to glide a bit deeper along his inner thighs, well, James supposed it was just his imagination as his skin became sensitized.

James couldn’t tell how long had been since he’d first laid down, but he still felt like it was too soon when Watson’s hands disappeared again. When they didn’t return, James opened his eyes again, and he felt inexplicably blissful. He understood the woman he had seen leaving at the beginning of the evening.

That thought made him blink faster, some of the haze disappearing. He had completely forgotten he was in London. He moved to sit up, but John put a hand on his shoulder.

“Steady. You may be a bit wobbly at first. I went quite deep with you,” he said, causing James’s ears to turn red with innuendo. John gave him a sort of amused smirk, and James cleared his throat.

“Right. Then… one minute,” he said, swallowing.

Wow.

That… had been an experience.

John smiled at him, and James had to ask, “You actually were a soldier, right? This isn’t just a setup for your clients.”

John nodded. “Yessir. Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. Two tours in Afghanistan. Invalidated home.”

Oh. “You were a doctor?”

“That’s correct. I got shot while I was working in the field. Bad injury. Took me a long while to make my arm work properly again, and that made sure I could never be a surgeon again.” He paused for a moment, then resumed talking. “I had an idea of going into physiotherapy, as someone who has been there. That doesn’t require my hand to be precise like surgeries, but… well. I’ve been there. It’s a hard place to be. So, I turned to this.”

James nodded. He was feeling a bit more lucid, and he slowly sat up. His muscles still felt like butter, and he gathered the small towel around himself, the paper underwear making him feel horribly exposed.

“I will leave you to get dressed now, sir,” John said with a smile and a salute.

James shook his head. “Please, call me James.”

John hesitated, but then nodded. “Only when the session is over, or the relaxing effect of the setting will be useless.”

“Of course. You did this?”

The doctor seemed to puff his chest out. “Yeah. Makes me feel home, and helps most clients. I only work with soldiers, and some of them have PTSD. This helps.”

“Indeed. It’s very effective,” James agreed.

“Good. Go on, then. I’ll wash up,” he said, even though he had wiped his oily hands on a towel already. He didn’t offer to shake James’s, and just headed for the small restroom.

He paused on the door, and then said over his shoulder, “I meant it, though. You should come more often.”

Why did the man seem to talk by innuendos? James flushed again and, when the door closed, rushed to get dressed again.

Needless to say, he truly was wobbly by the time he got out of the room, his every muscle feeling like butter.

He got another appointment.

***

Two days later, James was restless again. He would have taken an appointment sooner if John Watson’s schedule weren’t so full. The receptionist had told him that there was a free slot late in the evening, the last appointment of the day, and James took it.

For all the five remaining days of his leave.

He wasn’t sure why, but he needed to go through that same, amazing experience as many times as possible. Maybe it was because he hadn’t slept as well as that night in years. Maybe it was because everything had felt perfect. Maybe it was because he had dreamt of John Watson’s devilish hands and had come all over himself.

He tried not to linger on that thought. It wouldn’t do to get hard during a massage, or before it.

James was early again. He couldn’t help himself. If possible, the sterile waiting room with its faux zen and relaxing environment was even more nerve-wrecking than the first time around.

All that stuff wasn’t relaxing, it did nothing. Home was relaxing. John Watson’s military tent in the middle of London was relaxing.

When his name was called, James didn’t waste any time. He went to the room and as soon as he was done saluting Watson, he begun to undress.

“Woah, sir. Where’s the fire? There’s no rush. I’m all yours,” Watson said, and his voice was so suave that James couldn’t help but remember his dream.

“ _Oh, sir, look at you. I love working with you, getting to touch you like this…_ ”

In his dream, Watson had been in his unit. He had protected him from his injury, and they did this every day, and they had an affair. Or, at least, the way things went between them, in the dream, made him think so. They had joined so naturally that it could only be borne of practice.

James paused, blinking at Watson, and swallowed his tongue. His eyes were beautiful. He had already noticed them, but in the dim light they had seemed a navy blue. Now, with the light shining directly over his eyes, he could see they were actually steel blue, and they took his breath away.

“Sorry, I… I suppose I’m a bit eager because last time was… very good.” God, it sounded like he was talking of sex. “That is. I was very relaxed afterwards, and it hadn’t been that way in a long time.”

John Watson smiled at him and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, moving imperceptibly closer.

“Well, sir, there are many ways to relax. Although I think I know your kind. So deeply steeped in your work that you can’t ever seem to find a moment of peace and quiet, not even on leave. Aren’t you?”

James felt like the man’s eyes were boring into his own. He was aware of his cheeks flushing, but he had no idea how to reply. “That is correct.”

John’s smile turned from understanding to teasing, but he said nothing. He seemed self-satisfied, and his smirk was so infuriating James thought about kissing it away.

No. That would be… No. Had they been in the same unit, like in his dream, he would have punished him. But for what? Insubordination? Teasing his superior by not-really-flirting with him? Being so terribly tantalizing?

“Well then,” Watson said, and his voice was terribly close to a purr. “We better get started.”

James was stunned for a moment by the sultry look the masseur gave him. He was so stunned, he forgot to undress until he was given another ridiculous pair of disposable paper pants. When John disappeared he stripped and left his clothes on the same chair, although far less neatly than the previous time, and then went to lie down. He decided to forego the pants this time, because they were terribly uncomfortable, and because he would be covered anyways, and because… well. Two could play at the teasing game.

He laid on the table much like the previous time, but his heart was hammering in the ear pressed against the hygienic paper towel covering its surface, and he was feeling far more expectant. Still, he closed his eyes and forced himself to be patient and wait.

When Watson returned, James heard him inhale sharply through his nose. He didn’t move, frozen in place, not even when he felt the first dry touch of the masseur’s hands on him. He hadn’t taken the oil yet, and seemed to feel the texture of James’s skin beneath his fingertips. After a brief moment, he hummed tunelessly under his breath, and to James’s ears it sounded a lot like an appreciative sound.

James waited for a towel to cover him like last time, but the fabric never came. Instead, he heard the oil being opened and the sound of two palms rubbing together. He was sure this was highly inappropriate, for the both of them, but… he would be lying if he said it wasn’t the most exciting thing to happen to him in a long while.

Soon, he felt John’s hands on him again, and he let out a small sigh. The hands paused but didn’t stop. Instead, they began working him in earnest, without lingering and hesitating like the first time.

There was no teasing this time around. John began stroking his skin and massaging his muscles vigorously, his movements slow and deep. It was amazing. He felt his touches like ripples in the water, making his whole body tremble with aftershocks, like laying on the foreshore of a beach on a summer evening, waiting for the water to come and submerge him, and then ebb away again.

When John’s hands moved lower on his back, squeezing and teasing in the right places, James decided to up his game. He spread his legs a bit, shifting on the table, the paper crinkling beneath him.

This time John’s hands stopped for a beat. When they moved again, James gasped: he felt them glide over his skin, over his cheeks and down to his thighs, on to the shins, but all he could think about was that Watson had touched him. James wondered if they had both been waiting for a sign of willingness from each other, but now it was clear that they were on the same page.

In one moment, John’s hands were back to James’s arse, stroking the sensitive skin and squeezing his muscles, kneading his flesh with strong fingers in circular motions that pushed him more and more into the table, already making him think of sex.

God. What would sex with this man be? How deep would he manage to go, after making  _all_  his muscles loose and pliant? How good would he make him feel, by using his body? What kind of massages could he perform? The thought was enough to drive him crazy.

“Watson,” he gasped, and John’s hands didn’t even startle. Instead they seemed to move with more purpose, and James only noticed the man was panting when he breathed, “Sir, yes, sir?”

Damn it. Damn it all. James groaned and shifted again, further spreading his legs, and he heard John let out a real, proper moan, and he too moved to climb on the table, on his knees between James’s thighs.

There was no need for words. There was only a moment of pause, before James was letting out a startled yelp.

John was still massaging his cheeks, but at the same time he had dived in, and James gripped onto the edges of the table as he felt the man’s nose and mouth nuzzle against his entrance.

He tried to arch his back to get closer, but John pushed his hips down. Trying to struggle was useless, if John’s growl was anything to go by, and James just accepted his fate. His wonderful, wonderful fate.

John’s tongue was as skilled as his hands. Soon, James was a moaning mess. He couldn’t help himself. Not when John was licking into him, spreading his cheeks and squeezing them, and making him see stars. He turned his face into one of his forearms, to stifle his sounds, but then John’s tongue went from circling his hole to pushing in.

James couldn’t help himself. When he felt the tip of John’s tongue breach him, he arched his back, his shoulders moving forward as he threw his head back, and came on the paper towel beneath him.

John kept moving his tongue inside him until James was on the verge of becoming oversensitive, then pulled away with a gasp, like he had just resurfaced from the ocean. Surely he must be hard, too, and indeed, James felt his hands leave him and he heard them quickly fumble with his belt buckle.

He heard John groaning as he took himself in hand, and somehow, that felt unacceptable. James reached behind him with shaky hands and spread himself again, silently, tilting his hips upwards to offer John whatever he wanted.

He was his to take.

There was another pause, the silence only broken by their heavy breathing, and then John’s hands were on his hips, holding him tightly as James held himself spread. His cheeks were slippery and the air felt cold against the damp skin of his hole, but soon there was warmth against him as John slotted his cock in his cleft.

And, God, how big he was, and James wanted to beg him to slid inside of him, but he knew that was a bad idea. Not without a condom, at least.

It still felt amazing when John began thrusting against him, fucking the tight channel between the two globes of flesh and muscles James was now pushing together, against him, the friction inexistent as John had lubed himself up with the massage oil, and for the longest of moments, James forgot how to breathe as he rocked back up against John, wanting nothing more than pleasure this man the way he had pleasured him.

It didn’t take long for John’s movements to become erratic and for his voice to break on curses and swear-words, and James could almost imagine him - the look on his face, the way his head had to be thrown back, the way his eyes fluttered closed as he thrust harder and harder - until James felt hot liquid splash on his skin, and a broken sob coming from John.

The notion that the man had come made James shudder, and he had to grip the table with his hands to stay up to avoid falling back in the pool of his own come.

“Jesus,” John was the first to break the silence. “I, I’m sorry, I’ll clean you up, I… I don’t usually… Actually, I don’t ever, not with clients, I…”

James could hear how flustered the man was, and he couldn’t help a chuckle.

“Then I won’t return,” he said.

There was another pause, a sharp inhale, and then John again.

“Of course, sir, I understand if…”

“No, no. Maybe I said it wrong.” James looked over one shoulder, and indeed John was the very picture of handsomely fucked. “Dinner?”

The masseur opened his mouth for a moment, then licked his lips and nodded.

“Is this… a date?”

“Yes. I don’t usually do  _those_ , but… it seems we’ve both found exception to our rules, tonight.” James was sure John Watson would have been an exception even if it had meant risking his career on the field by having a relationship with one of his subordinates.

He liked to think that the same was true for John, if the bright smile he received in return was anything to go by.

***

Dinner was surprisingly good. Once James had cleaned himself up and John had changed from his work clothes and into a cozy jumper and shirt combo and casual jeans, the masseur had lead James to a very nice Indian restaurant near the massage parlour.

They had good food and good fun, and James felt strangely light. He hadn’t been out with someone in a very long time, but he didn’t remember it being this nice. He had almost expected to find out John was actually a prick, which would have probably been easier, but he wasn’t. He was delightful. Witty, sharp, funny. Brave, from the war stories they were swapping. Selfless, from the recounting of his injury. Hard-working, from how he had gotten control of his life back despite his feelings of helplessness.

James couldn’t even begin to imagine how hard that could be. The Army was his life. He had served ever since becoming of age, and he couldn’t fathom how it would feel to be ripped from it, to have to reboot your life, and to have your body betraying you on top of it all. It was amazing how determined John had been to defeat his limp.

Of course, it could all be an elaborated lie for James’s benefit, but what would be the reason? They had already had sex, and James could have easily fact-checked John’s story.

Besides, James wanted to believe John was as much a good soldier and man as he was saying he was.

***

Once started, they seemed unable to keep their hands off of each other.

John suggested they went to his place, and James didn’t miss the hesitant glance his way, nor the quick licking of lips. It occurred to him that they hadn’t even kissed, so the Major nodded eagerly.

When they arrived in the small bedsit John resided in, James could tell the man was ashamed of it. It was so beige and sad, the opposite of the man he had just met, yet already felt like he knew.

To James it felt like they had known each other for a very long time. Like they had served together at some point, and just by listening to John’s story. He wondered if John felt the same about what he had told him. He wondered if John, too, had imagined being in the desert together, watching the story being told like a spectator rather than a listener.

As John turned on the lights and tried to explain to James that it was a temporary accommodation, that he was saving from his job to get a better flat, that this was all he could afford with his army pension when he first returned, James placed his hands on the man’s shoulders and pushed him against the door they had just closed, kissing him.

The doctor was stunned for a moment, but then he seemed to regain his wits. He pushed up on his tiptoes to push back into the kiss, snaking one arm around James’s shoulders and reaching with his other hand to grip his hair and keep him close. James’s neck cranes uncomfortably, but he doesn’t care.

He kissed John like he hadn’t kissed anyone in ages. He pressed his tongue to his lips, bit them, sucked them, drew John’s tongue inside his mouth to suck on it, eliciting delicious moans from the shorter man.

Apparently John didn’t much like their height difference, because he begun to bossily push James back towards the bed in the other side of the one-room apartment. He went along happily, his hands going to grip John’s firm arse, making the man growl.

When the back of James’s knees hit the mattress, John took advantage of his higher centre of balance to push him back, making him fall on the bed with a startled noise and a soft  _fump_.

James looked up at the devilish grin John wore as he climbed on top of him, pinning him down by the shoulders. James smirked back at him, his hands going to his hips as he was straddled, and he rolled them over easily on the narrow bed, careful not to crash John against the wall.

James kissed the masseur again, hungrily, his hands moving to undress him, only pulling away to take John’s jumper off. The rest of their clothing flew off while they snogged, their bodies pressing together, tighter and tighter, pressure and heat growing as their sweaty chests rubbed together and their erections were squeezed between them, still in their pants, their hips moving frantically as they rutted against each other.

But that was not how James wanted to end the evening, so he pulled away with a gasp. John’s unhappy groan soon turned into a moan as James began kissing and biting down his neck, leaving bruises and teeth marks as he went down to his chest, stroking the firm muscles with his fingers as his lips lingered on the fresh scar on the doctor’s shoulder. Then he resumed his work, moving down John’s stomach, to his navel, hooking his fingers in his pants while he lingered on the sensitive skin right above the elastic band so he could pull them down.

John’s cock bobbed out eagerly, and the man hissed as it brushed against James’s chin.

“Sensitive?” James whispered against his heated flesh as he turned his head to press his lips against the base of its head, making John gasp and reach for his hair.

His fingers didn’t tangle in the sparse strands, instead stroking them gently like he was trying to convince James to take him in his mouth. As if James needed convincing.

He smiled and turned his head to nuzzle again in the hair growing at the base of John’s erection, then pulled back to caress the shaft with parted lips, the merest hint of tongue drawing a damp line on its length.

“Oh God!” John couldn’t seem able to control himself. James imagined it had been a while for him, too. After such an injury, it took a long while to recover enough to even think about seeking intimacy.

James smiled against his skin, flattered that John would choose him for this. He closed his eyes and started licking John’s cock, laving it with attentions.

Small touches with the flat of his tongue over the head, sweeping the glans gently; teasing the foreskin with his lips, tugging it carefully and making John hiss with pleasure; massaging the fraenulum with the tip of his tongue, pressing and circling; his hand moved up and down on the base, and when James saw the first pearly droplets of pre-ejaculate, he pulled away and moved further down, sucking John’s testicles in his mouth and pulling gently on them.

“You’re going to make me come if you keep that up,” John warned him.

James hummed in his throat and pulled away with a wet  _pop_ , smirking. “We can’t have that, can we?” he said, never stopping his hand. “Condoms,” he instructed, and John sat up to begin rummaging through his drawer. He pulled out two condoms and a bottle of lube, but then he seemed to think better of it.

“Lie down,” he prompted James, who took his pants off with a sigh of relief and did as he was asked. But when he laid on his back, John waved a finger and made a ‘roll over’ motion with it.

James’s cheeks flamed red again, and he smirked as he obeyed.

“I noticed you liked this earlier,” John said, his voice teasing. The mattress jumped with the loss of his weight, but he was back after a few seconds of looking through his desk drawer.

James waited with his heart in his throat and his arms wrapped around John’s pillow. It smelled like him - clean and sweet, like the oil he used to work and the soap James had tasted on his skin.

Instead of John’s hands, like at the massage parlour, the first thing James felt was a drip of cold liquid on his skin. He gasped softly at the sensation, more out of surprise than anything else as he felt the drops roll over his skin.

“Mmmh. Gorgeous,” John said. “That’s the first thing I thought when I saw you. And not just your body. You looked exactly like the kind of man in whose hands I would’ve put my life on the field.”

More droplets slid down along his sides, and then a few more fell on the small of his back, collecting in the dimples there.

“Then you took your clothes off, and… good Lord. Your body. That was gorgeous, too. All defined muscles from hard work… and you’re so tall. I’d climb you like a tree. Your thighs, your back, your chest… If you want, next time I can massage your front,” he continued, leaving the bottle on the bed next to them.

All James could do for a long moment was breathe harshly. John had barely touched him, yet he was already this worked up. It was incredible.

“John,” he called, his voice strained when he found it. “Please…”

Not knowing what John was about to do, and when, was the best and worst thing ever. His words seemed to touch James like a caress, and he was about to start trembling with his need.

“Say my name again.”

When John’s hands made contact with the oil on his back, James groaned, “ _John_!”

“Yeah. That’s good,” the masseur whispered, his voice low.

James couldn’t wait anymore. “John. You need to fuck me this instant, this is an order-” he started, but the words died on his tongue.

John had begun massaging his arse, much like he had done earlier, but this time his thumbs moved towards his cleft, slicking the skin up and moving past his entrance. He rubbed circles into the muscle, and James had to bite his lips not to moan too loudly.

One of John’s hands disappeared, and James felt more oil falling on him, on the heated skin of his cheeks and right over and into his hole. He shivered at the cold droplet worming its way into his body, and when it had warmed up, John simply poured more onto him. James wondered if John wanted to fill him with it, but soon the bottle was put aside again.

In its stead, John’s fingers came into play. While his right hand kept him spread, the left one moved on him. The tip of John’s finger traced a line from the base of James’s spine to the base of his balls, stroking his cleft and perineum over and over again, until James was trembling with need.

Then John pressed one wet finger inside of him, and James didn’t feel anything. The digit went inside of him so effortlessly, aided by the amount of oil John had used, that it just sunk to the knuckle.

The two soldiers moaned in unison. John began moving his finger as James rocked up against him, humping the covers lightly, and it took less than ten seconds for a second finger to be added. This time James felt the burn of his muscles stretching - no matter how relaxed they were already - as once again John pushed easily down to his second phalanx.

“Oh my God,” he breathed, watching his hand moving almost effortlessly inside James, in and out, until both digits disappeared inside of him. “Oh my God, look at you, that’s gorgeous, you’re perfect…”

James didn’t think it possible to blush with all the blood in his body down south, yet he felt his face burn against John’s pillow at those words. Unable to speak, he bucked his hips, giving John a hint to get on with it.

The doctor didn’t listen. He took his time, pressing his third finger slowly inside of James, bit by bit, careful not to give the slide for granted. He was panting almost as hard as the Major by the time the finger was fully inside of James, the slide of his movements effortless.

It was moments before John expertly found James’s prostate. It felt like being struck by lightning. James’s hips rocked wildly and he whimpered and moaned into the pillow, thrusting against John’s fingers, relentlessly massaging his sweet spot.

“Please,  _please_ , just fuck me!” James moaned in frustration what felt like hours of sweet torture later. He was ready, his body as open as it ever was, and he couldn’t wait anymore. He’d lose his mind if he had to.

“Yes, God, yes, just…”

The hand on his arse moved away, and so did the fingers inside of him, slowly. There was the sound of hands being wiped on the bedsheet, a tinfoil package being ripped open followed by a soft curse, and after a moment of fumbling there was again the sound of oil being poured.

James glanced over his shoulder, watching John’s hand flying over his condom-clad erection. It was a beautiful sight, his lips parted and his eyelids half-closed and fluttering against his cheeks, exactly the way James had pictured. He moaned again, needily, getting a growl out of John that made him shiver much like it had when John had been face-first against his arse.

The masseur gripped James’s hips and spread his thighs a bit, so he could kneel closer to where he wanted to be. Then, John lifted James just enough for the angle to be right, and pressed the tip of his cock to his hole.

“James,” he whispered, and then it was like homecoming.

He slid so perfectly inside of James, so easily, so slowly and steadily, that it felt like a revelation. Like finding a missing piece. Like being complete.

“Oh,” was all James could say, stunned.

John didn’t seem to be faring better, if the way he was trembling was anything to go by.

“Jesus,” he whispered. “I could just… without even…” As he said this, he started moving inside of James. He pulled away and then pushed in, and it was like they were made for this. For the easy, effortless slide of skin against skin, flesh inside flesh, pleasure upon pleasure.

James could barely think. He could only feel, lost in the sensation of John’s large cock filling him up, spreading him open, moving inside of him like they were make for this. He could only focus on the sharp electric jolts of pleasure shooting up and down his spine whenever John hit his prostate, once every few strokes, causing his muscles to clench and squeeze onto John’s erection, which only made everything feel better.

John, on the other hand, was a rambler.

“My  _God_ , look at you, look how perfect you are… you were made for me, James, you’re so gorgeous, I could do this forever… You’re so wet, I wish I could feel it on my cock instead of through the condom… I feel like I could just disappear inside of you, I want to, I want to get lost inside you,” he said, his voice shaking as he picked up his rhythm. “Look how open and soft you are, you’re loving this, I want to make you feel so good, as good as you’re making me feel, you’re so amazing, you’re unbelievable, so perfect, so perfect, so perfect…”

It was mindblowing. James was speechless, every single laboured breath precious, because he felt that he would pass out with the pleasure if he wasn’t careful.

It was bliss. It was completion. It was perfection.

James was so slick that when John moved faster, he effortlessly slipped out of James. They both let out a pained cry, as if they had been physically wounded, and groaned when John reinserted himself. James clenched his muscles around him with every outward movement, to avoid losing him again, and that only seemed to increase their combined pleasure.

“You’re so warm, so hot, so soft, so wet, so hard, so smooth, so good, so perfect, so slick, my God, so slick,” John rambled, pulling James’s hips up to change the angle again and drive into his prostate with every thrust.

One of his hands disappeared from his side, and James braced himself against the mattress to push back against John, determined not to slow down, not when it was all so good, and he was so close…

John’s hand reappeared around James’s erection. It was drenched in oil, and when it gripped him in its slippery hold, James knew how John felt. He cried out as he fucked hard the tight, squeezing channel of John’s fingers, as John chanted, “Yes, yes,  _yes_!”, and soon he was clenching around him like a vise.

James pushed back against John and into his hand a couple more time and then froze. He shuddered all over, gasped like a man drowning, and then let out a deep cry of, “John!”, before coming all over the man’s sheets, clamping down on him as John’s cock kept driving into his prostate, milking his orgasm both from the inside and the outside.

Soon he was shivering as well, moaning James’s name, before giving his last few thrusts.

They remained like that for a long moment, muscles straining and chests heaving, until James’s quaking muscles gave in and he collapsed on the bed, taking John down with him with a “huff”.

“I can’t feel my brain,” James whispered into their silence after a moment, receiving a groan from John.

“God, me neither,” he said, slurred.

 _That’s it_ , thought James,  _it feels like I’m drunk_.

“That… that was the best orgasm of my life,” James said slowly, swallowing dryly to try and put some moisture back in his mouth.

John hummed in agreement, seemingly unable to speak. Then, he began to giggle.

James, strangely enough, laughed as well.

“It was ridiculous,” said John, breathlessly. “I mean, it was… it was amazing, but it felt… it felt like…”

“Yes,” smiled James.

“I mean, like we were…”

“Yes.”

They fell into silence again, lost in their thoughts. Eventually, James had to speak.

“I still have at least one tour left,” he said. When John didn’t reply, he continued, “If we want to make this work as more than it is, it… might take a while.”

“I understand.” John didn’t elaborate, and James didn’t push the issue.

After a few more minutes, John pulled away and out of James, taking the condom and carefully tying it closed. James didn’t feel ready to move, and when John disappeared in the flat’s small bathroom, his head buzzed with worry. Had this been a bad idea? Should he have kept silent? Maybe he had been ahead of himself. They’d shared one day of (unbelievable) sex. That didn’t mean John might want to pursue a relationship. And since when did he want one? His work had always been all-consuming. He didn’t have time to… And had he just offered to finish after his next turn?

James’s stomach was in knots by the time John returned. He had cleaned up and now spent a few minutes wiping oil and come from James’s back and stomach, then together they pushed aside the soiled blanket and curled up together beneath the rest of the covers.

James was about to speak, but John was faster.

“Maybe tomorrow, when you come for your session, you can ride me,” he whispered.

James would have sworn that his cock twitched again. “If you make me that slippery we’d just risk falling off the table,” he joked, his face glowing red.

John smiled and cupped his cheeks as they laid side by side in the narrow bed. “Listen. I think we both felt a connection. I say we keep going these few days, while you’re here. We have fun, we get to know each other. And then, after you come back, if you haven’t changed your mind and want to stay… then we can talk about this again. Okay?”

James looked in the doctor’s eyes, and saw both hope and worry in their steel blue depths. He could see John understood how hard leaving that life was, and he didn’t want to be the cause of James’s possible regrets.

So, the Major nodded, smiling. “Sounds good to me.”

John returned his smile and pulled him closer for a soft, tender kiss, as deep as the first they shared, but more than in a physical sense.

***

The following morning they exchanged email addresses and numbers. They had breakfast together and parted ways with a soft kiss, John to go to work and James to go and rest, back to his hotel.

He showered and thought hard about what he wanted while he was soaking beneath the hot water.

John would be worth leaving the army for. He felt it. But the doctor was right, they couldn’t bet such a thing over a strange feeling.

As they kept meeting for their sessions, dating, and having sex, James was more and more sure about what his choice for the future would be.

But even if he felt like he was falling faster than a dead man, he couldn’t know that John felt the same.

So, he’d wait and see.

***

John kept his promise, and the night before he was due to leave, he let James ride him for hours.

They came at the same time.

The following morning on the plane, James couldn’t seem to sit still.

***

They kept emailing while James was away, and he wasn't sure if the fact that John always sounded like a friend, except for the occasional teasing, made him feel relieved or not.

***

Then, his world exploded.

***

James stopped looking himself in the mirror. He just couldn’t. He couldn’t see the reminder of his shame. And he couldn’t let anyone else see.

He appeared in every major news outlet.

He stopped answering John’s emails.

***

When he was healed enough and the bandages removed, and he started moving without feeling like like his body was being consumed by fire, he ran out of excuses.

His psychologist told him he wouldn’t be able to shut himself away from the world. James stopped seeing her.

He hired a nurse, a maid, a gardener, a cook. He retired to his parents’s country house. He hid.

When the threats begun, he hired a personal security guard, and upgraded the alarm system.

He tried not to think about John when his nurse would try and massage his stiff muscles, rubbing burn cream on his dead arm and pointing out that he should try and move more, or see a physiotherapist.

Only when the wounds were completely healed he decided to give in, and hire someone who could come a few times a week to see him, to try and help him regain at least some range of movement.

***

It took a while to find a clinic that would send someone to him, and on the first day James was nervous. It could very well have been someone who wanted to kill him, like so many did. If that were to be the case, James supposed it would be a right way to go. Just what he deserved.

When his security guard let the doctor in, James nearly fell back in the chair he had been sitting reading a book, from which he had stood to greet the man.

“John,” he whispered.

The man’s face was hardened with worry. The bags under his eyes were dark, and his hair had some streaks of silver in it.

When the guard left them, John spoke, his voice steely. “I thought we’d said we would wait.”

James swallowed drily, not knowing how to answer him. “I… I thought I would spare you…” He trailed off when John’s face coloured with silent rage.

John put the kit with his tools down and walked to James. “I’m an adult. I made a choice. I would have told you if I didn’t want you. And why wouldn’t I? Because of this?” He gestured towards James’s face, and the Major looked away in shame.

“You have no fault for what happened, no matter what other wankers say. They don’t know war. They don’t know the risk, sitting comfortably in their home while we do the job they send us to do for them. So, you shouldn’t even feel guilty about it, but you’re too good a man not to. And about your face and arm… Well, I didn’t actually become a physiotherapist for nothing.”

James blinked stupidly at John when he was done with his rant, and only then did he put two and two together.

“So you went for that, in the end…?”

“Yes. To help a friend,” he said, his gaze turning softer. “I’m sorry. I suppose I wasn’t clear, either. I didn’t want you to feel forced to drop out for me, so I tried to keep this casual, but when I heard… And when you stopped answering my mails…” John sighed, and shrugged his good shoulder. “I guess I couldn’t leave it alone. So, unless you’ve changed your mind for reasons other than what happened… I’m here. I’m here, and I’ve waited for you, like I said I would.”

James was stunned. He felt his eyes sting with tears, and he stood up straighter as he said, “I’m yours, if that’s what you still want.”

After a moment of silence, John scoffed. “Don’t make me repeat myself,” he said with a small smile, and James had never felt relief flood him like in that moment.

John went for him as soon as the tears started to flow, wrapping him in his arms. They stood there, waiting for James’s small sobs to quiet down, and John kept murmuring soothing nothings in the Major’s ear.

When he calmed down enough to pull away, John wiped his cheeks and stroked the scars on his face tenderly. James knew that he understood that. Being invalidated. The pain, physical and mental, the loss of belonging, the loss of a part of you, of your job and your life… and the guilt of letting someone die for your mistakes. As a doctor, James was sure he had known that too, at least a few times.

Maybe what had happened was just part of the connection they had, and it was supposed to happen all along for them to understand each other better. James didn’t believe in destiny, but in that moment he gripped tight and held onto that thought.

John gave him a reassuring smile, that soon turned cheeky. “If you were so eager to come home to me, you could have deserted,” he said with just a hint of tease.

It was James’s time to scoff, and roll his eyes. But he smiled back at John, feeling better than ever since the injury occurred.

“I think we should start with our therapy… but we will have to be serious. No sex until we’re done with the session,” John said, reminiscing their past ‘sessions’.

“We’d better get to work, then, don’t you think?” James smiled softly and leaned in, kissing John’s equally curved lips.

It felt like homecoming.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, I can't reread my own stuff, so if it sucks or you find major mistakes just tell measkdjgs
> 
> Also, if someone is interested, I found [this interesting article](http://www.massagetoday.com/mpacms/mt/article.php?id=13350) while checking if there were military ran massage parlours or not. The more you know!


End file.
